Story – Polish pleasures (2) – Perfect touch

“Many nice,” she smiled, sipping her wine. “And also this place. Beautiful… view?”
“View yes, very good. And we’d say very nice, not many.”
Dziękuję,” she smiled.
Proszę bardzo, darling. And my view is even better,” he winked, eying her.

He was correcting her because she’d explicitly asked him to. Wishing to learn English had become a little more important now they were seeing each other regularly. He’d given it a try to learn Polish in return, but mastering a hellishly difficult language in his forties had been too much of an obstacle for a busy businessman, so he’d given up. Beit reluctantly. He was just a tad too ambitious and competitive to admit defeat, more so since his Polish mistress was showing to be considerably more succesful, also with a business of her own and at more or less the same age.

He also wasn’t eying her the very shy way, and her not minding him one bit was the biggest thrill of his life. It was also an example of coincidence changing it dramatically. A year ago, a random pick out of several high rated bed & breakfasts had brought him to hers, establishing the first encounter between a pretty leg amputee and a man very much attracted to that. Also between an unmarried woman feeling free to admit her otherwise happy life was a little short of sex, and a man in a marriage that’d lost its sparkle for quite a while already. And last but not least between a one-legged woman who used to have a boyfriend with the same attraction, which she’d quite enjoyed, and a man still praising himself for having had the guts to confess his. Being her only guest that night had then done the rest.

“I can still wear bikini, you think?”

Her pouting smile playfully warned him he wasn’t expected to say no here. But even when trying hard, he couldn’t possibly find a reason to. Okay, she wasn’t twenty anymore, and obviously it showed. Her body had picked the right spots to add the extra pounds though, and since he was very fond of full buttocks and a serious bosom, her high left leg amputation was not the only thing making her a thrill to watch.

“You look smashing, darling. Beaten by one thing only…”

It made her stick out the tip of her tongue, followed by a charmed giggle. He’d already hinted her to not put anything on, but with local farmers passing by the dirt road not too far from the terrace where they were sitting, there’d be eyes she didn’t want to see her nude. Thereat, the late afternoon sun was becoming weaker, so they’d soon move inside, solving the issue naturally, so to say. For him only, there was very little she liked more than seeing his eyes bulge at the sight of her naked body.

Him putting an end to his marriage had many reasons of their own, sufficient too, she knew. She’d been a catalyst, speeding up things he should have done much earlier. Initially, it had been merely sexual, their affair, an affair initiated by an uncommon liking of his and a practical acceptance of hers. Interesting men hadn’t exactly been queing up to date her, and for the reason she didn’t need to guess. A courting gentleman who found her drop dead sexy for having a leg amputation was therefore a welcome change.

How they’d progressed from sex only to more had different reasons though, very normally very human ones. Even when happy on her own, she’s always longed for the intimacy of a soul mate and lover. As he longed to see the sparkle return his marriage no longer provided. It gave fertile ground to seeking that in each other, tentatively at first, but as soon as it turned out they made a pretty good match they sort of naturally took it further.

Discussing what they had together came later, when they’d already grown very fond of each other, fond enough to not feel the need to put a label on it. He had his business abroad, she had hers in Poland, they both loved their work and so there was not going to be any living together, not for the time being at least. But since he got divorced, the frequency of their visits had ensured being steady in a different way, a very satisfying too. Actually, it had its charm to let missing each other be the build-up for an invariably very passionate see again. Like this one, a week in southern Spain, enjoying the surprisingly warm weather in a bikini she bought here because she didn’t take one.

“Is not too small?” she continued fishing for compliments. And teasing him a little of course.
“A man would never call a bikini too small, darling,” he winked. “Especially not with you.”
“Tell me why,” she said with a playfully begging smile.
“Your sitting on it, but your ass looks great in it.”
“Okay,” she grinned. “More?”
“The top makes your boobs bulge very nicely. The thin fabric’s sexy too. I can see your nipples protrude.”
Another grin. “More?”
“Your stump looks incredibly hot in a high cut bikini. Very beautifully showing how very beautifully your leg was amputated.”

They were long past there being any taboo in saying things like he just said. She knew what his attraction was about and was flattered by it, making life pleasant and easy in a way he’d never imagined to ever experience. Speaking out like he could with her still felt like a giant relief, every time he did.

He’d sort of reconciled before he met her, accepting his attraction was always going to be a closet thing. His then wife didn’t know, nor did anyone, not even his best buddy, the guy he’d share most everything with. It’d always felt too controversial to bring up. Partly, it was plain cowardice not to, he found, perhaps only explained because he was every bit the normal guy otherwise, because he knew everyone thought of him like that, and because it was somehow safe to leave that picture intact. Of being decently married, having a decent job, even having a decent sex life when that was still existing. As in being very very mainstream, so to say, and without the urge to seek anything outdoors. With respect to his secret, he knew he was not alone. The internet had made him discover that, to his relief. But in his feelings he very much was, all alone since early adolescence. Perhaps cowardly by his own choice, but he was.
Until he’d met her.

“I like when you say that,” she smiled charmedly. “Very much.”
“You learn fast,” he winked, noting she was no longer using ‘many’.
“You learn too. In say what you feel. Is good for you and for me I feel one leg is still beautiful,” she smiled, lifting and fumbling her stump.
“Not just beautiful, darling,” he replied, hinting subtly at what her fumbling was causing.
It made her chuckle. “I still surprised how strong you find it beautiful. You call amazed, eh?”
“Yes, you could call it that,” he grinned.

She grinned back, looking rather frolic. And she didn’t exactly stop fumbling. With both hands now, she let her fingers push deep into the soft flesh, massaging slowly, tensing the muscles for more effect and taking care he got to see every detail. Seeing her play with her stump was a major weakness, she knew, although her English was meanwhile good enough to find that term both too diplomatic and technically wrong. His response couldn’t possibly be called weak.

“Mmm, I not mind to have stump for you, I like. You like me be your girl with sexy one leg…?”
This was his second biggest weakness. And the combined effect was interestingly phenomenal.
“Hmm, what are you doing to me, darling…”
“Make you want me, want your amputee mistress with your very hard big little man,” she whispered, seductively humming with every kneading of her stump.

Her English was definitely improving, he thought. But only for a moment. Then his erection proverbially drained all blood from his brain. He got up, grinned as he saw her admire the huge bulge in his shorts. It only seemed to encourage her, and he enjoyed it in a dizzying almost trance. She knew how to most arouse him since the very first time. He’d been right in thinking that once boyfriend of hers explained her remarkable talent. Her delightful lack of mercy was very much their own pleasure, however.

Knowing him to be a tad reserved, she’d made him learn to be at ease with verbal openness, combining it with rather provocatively showing him she was more than okay with everything regarding her amputated leg. She knew he loved it was taken off high and she let him love it, willingly and happily. There was nothing to be done about it anyway, she’d had it for far too long to consider it anything but naturally part of her, and all things considered the frank way she much preferred, there was a more than pleasant convenience in having a lover who’d found a high missing leg an irresistable reason to court her.

So, it wasn’t just neutral acceptance for her. She actively loved it. His excitement made her feel desired, and the confidence it built had made her less and less shy to tickle it. The negligence of a self-righteous surgeon had made her lose a leg. How to cope with it was very much in her own hands, however. And surely she had always found that, since him she’d done it with much more self-confidence, and very likely because he made coping so much easier.

She’d never been ashamed; it was not her fault how she’d come to look. But the difference between not being ashamed and being looked at as positively sexy was quite a difference. An increasingly pleasant one too. And one she was very intently deploying as a weapon of seduction.

“You come touch my stump? I find so exciting when you make me feel one-legged sexy…”
He obliged, with every bit of excitement inside him. And she tickled it with utmost determination.
“Mmm, very hot when my amputation make you so hard…” her naughty whispering sounded while he took her stump in his hands. “Tell me how you like too…”

She always watched him well. Knew exactly what triggered him most. So she relaxed, let the flesh of her stump be soft. It smoothly curved under the pressure of his fingers. She let the incision be no taboo, allowed him to feel it as the fleshly mark the amputation had left. Allowed herself as well, without any bad feelings. It was how it was. It had been for so long this was her body as it should feel. And in the hands of this man, it felt wonderful and exciting, in a peculiar contrast between very physically aware of amputation and very willing to make that sexual.
It wasn’t just not minding. It was actively willing to have one leg, to be an amputee for him. Not because she could change it, but as a mind-set actively used to tickle his excitement. And her own.

He didn’t reply in words. He took her hand to make her stand up. He handed her crutches to make them both move inside. He walked behind her to enjoy the beauty of her one-legged walking, and she swayed her hips to tell him she loved to be watched.

And as soon as the door closed, she felt his hungry hands and sighed.



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